


Games Night

by agentmoppet



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Time, Flustered!Harry, Inter-House Unity, M/M, Sneaky!Draco, Strip Poker, UST, confident!draco, eighth year, muggle board games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-01 10:28:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6514414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentmoppet/pseuds/agentmoppet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has no idea why Hermione decided that an inter-house Games Night would be a good idea, but he’s here now, and he intends to beat Malfoy, no matter what game he chooses. But, who would have thought muggle games could be full of so much... tension?</p><p>Response to anon prompt on tumblr:</p><p>Agent Moppet, I'm reporting a prompt. Drarry playing twister (Slytherin House guiltily loving muggle games, a fashion Hermione started? They have multi-housial meetings?). Über-competativity, breathe-on-neck positions, Draco being surprisingly/noticably bendy {harry having inappropriate thoughts about that}, someone maybe gets a hard on which the other feels? A kiss? Thank you ily 456eva if u do it. <333 </p><p>Might do a sequel sometime, we'll see</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Harry glared at Hermione as she pulled him through the entrance to the Slytherin common room.

“Why are you bringing me here?” he muttered furiously, stumbling a little as Hermione refused to slow down for him.

Behind them, Ron came through the doorway slowly, his eyes flitting around the room as he turned his back casually toward the wall. Harry cursed under his breath and looked quickly behind him, wondering why he hadn't thought of that, but there didn't appear to be any Slytherins waiting to hex him.

Instead, they were all seated in the middle of the common room. Cushions and blankets had been arranged to the effect of one, huge couch, and everyone from first years right up to returning eighth years were lounging happily in the middle in a sea of green, blue, red, and yellow.

Harry frowned. Why were there so many students here?

“It's Games Night!” Hermione said a little breathlessly as she finally released Harry's wrist.

She stared at Harry and Ron, eyes flicking between the two as she anxiously waited for a response.

“Games Night,” Ron repeated flatly. “With the Slytherins."

“And the Ravenclaws, and the Hufflepuffs, and the Gryffindors.” Hermione waved her hand in vague exasperation. “We're all here. We've been organising it for weeks.”

“We?” Harry narrowed his eyes.

“Draco and I.” Hermione turned away quickly and walked over to the cushions, leaving Harry and Ron to stare after her, jaws hanging open.

“Did she just-” Harry began.

“I choose to believe that no, no she didn't,” Ron interrupted firmly.

“Good idea.”

Realising that they were the only students who hadn't yet joined the group of fifty or so in the middle of the room, Ron and Harry began to make their way slowly toward Hermione. With a sheepish little smile in their direction, Hermione shook back her long hair and settled on a folded blanket in the centre.

Next to Malfoy.

Ron and Harry exchanged a look before suddenly pushing through the crowd to a chorus of “watch where you're going!” and “that was my hand!” and sitting down abruptly in front of Hermione and Malfoy.

“'Mione,” Ron said as if they hadn't all arrived together, his chin tilted slightly in the air. His nose wrinkled as he turned toward the blond. “Malfoy.”

Harry grunted and narrowed his eyes, not having looked away from Malfoy since they had sat down. Malfoy raised one eyebrow and nodded to the two of them while Hermione looked on, an expression of poorly concealed amusement on her face.

“Shall we begin?” Malfoy drawled, his tone as acerbic as ever, even if his words were no longer insulting.

“Begin what?” Harry looked pointedly at Hermione.

Malfoy smirked. “Granger, I'm impressed. You really did keep the idiot twins from interrupting our plans.”

“Who says we'd interrupt anything?” Harry spat indignantly, at the same time as Ron yelped, “Who are you calling 'idiot twins'?”

Hermione leaned forward and patted Ron's knee gently. “We just wanted to make sure you didn't find some excuse to avoid coming.”

“Speak for yourself,” Malfoy said airily. “I was all for changing the password on you.”

To Harry and Ron's mounting horror and confusion, Hermione elbowed Malfoy with what could only be described as exasperated affection.

“What are you doing?” Ron's voice was the low whisper of a man losing his final grip on sanity.

“Making friends,” Hermione said firmly, and with that she stood up and clapped her hands smartly. When the noise in the room had lowered to something approximating quiet, she cast an efficient sonorous charm and addressed her audience. “Thank you, everyone, for coming to the first Inter-house Games Night.”

Harry was surprised and oddly moved to hear a note of genuine pride in her voice. He shot a glance at Malfoy, whose pointed face was as unreadable as ever.

“We thought we would start off our games with something a little different,” she continued. “As well as gobstones and exploding snap, we've brought in a number of Muggle games.” She beamed at the seated students. “I've made up rule boards, and if you have any questions you can ask anyone wearing a badge like this.” She indicated a bright, blue button on the front of her school robes. “We'll be helping you get into groups of the right number for each game, so don't worry if you don't have enough people with you to play the game you'd like to play. This is all about making new friends, after all. And there are waiting lists for your group, if the game you want to play has already been picked.”

There was an air of friendly anticipation in the room, and even the Slytherins seemed excited to play, with most people already looking over at the pile of brightly coloured boxes and large, colour-coded rule boards that Harry hadn't noticed until now. He thought he could see a couple of games in there that he recognised, and he found his competitive streak rising despite himself.

“So, without further ado, let the games begin!”

Ron dropped his head into his hands and groaned. “Did you really have to go with the cheesy line?” He mumbled into his palm, but Hermione didn't hear him.

The chatter in the room rose again as students paired up or found large groups to play some of the longer games, and very quickly the boxes were being passed around.

“It's going well already,” Hermione said to Malfoy as she dropped back down onto her blanket, her cheeks flushed with happiness.

“It is,” Malfoy agreed, nodding to Blaise Zabini as he walked past.

Aside from Malfoy and Zabini, very few Slytherins had returned for eighth year, and certainly none whose names Harry knew confidently.

“What would you like to play?” Hermione asked Harry and Ron.

Harry frowned and looked back at Malfoy, who didn't seem to be making any move toward the game pile. “Scared to lose to a Hufflepuff, are you?” he challenged.

Malfoy turned back to him, eyes wide. “As if I _could_ ,” he said sincerely, giving a small shudder.

“Too busy losing to Gryffindors, then?” Harry smirked at the flash of anger in Malfoy's eyes.

“Will we find out, Potter?” Malfoy sneered.

Hermione cast a wary glance between the two of them. “We'd better hurry. All the good games are going.”

She wasn't wrong. When they finally reached the table, there was only one box left.

“Twister?” Ron asked. “Muggles can't trap a hurricane in a box, surely.”

Hermione burst out laughing. “No, no they can't.”

Harry eyed the box with a growing sense of dread. He wasn't particularly good at Twister, and there was something gnawing at him – some thought in the back of his mind, like this might be a particularly bad idea, though he couldn't quite figure out why.

But he had challenged Malfoy, and he intended to win.

Fifteen minutes later, when he found himself doubled over on all fours with Malfoy stretched out over the top of him, he felt the first small, yet undeniable, twinges of regret. Malfoy cursed quietly and leaned further over Harry, his breathing strained from the effort of holding the unnatural position.

“You alright there, Harry?” Ron called sympathetically, no doubt concerned that Malfoy was deliberately pushing all his weight down in a very Slytherin attempt to sabotage Harry's balance. Ron had fallen over several turns ago, swearing viciously that Malfoy had pushed him.

Malfoy was leaning on him, of course, but he hadn't managed to push Harry over yet. Harry shifted his hands and felt Malfoy grunt as Harry's elbow poked further into his collarbone.

“Watch it, Potter,” he snarled.

“You're one to talk,” Harry spat. “Just how fucking bony are you? It's like I'm being suffocated by a scarecrow.”

Malfoy snorted rudely. “Just say it: you're jealous of my elegant bone structure. Honestly, Potter, how do you manage to stay on your broom when you can't even crouch over this tiny mat? And _stop breathing like a goddamn troll_.”

“ _I'm_ breathing like a troll?” Harry asked incredulously. “ _You're_ the one who-”

“ _For the third time:_ right hand red!” Hermione yelled.

Malfoy and Harry shot their hands forward at lightning speed, knocking into each other so violently that they both nearly toppled over. Harry slammed his hand down a split second before Malfoy, who snarled angrily and avoided falling by bracing himself even more firmly over Harry's back and reaching for the red dot above his head.

Harry heard Ron cough uncomfortably behind him, but he was too focused on maintaining his balance to care why.

“We appear to have achieved a temporary agreement,” Malfoy murmured from his new position just beside Harry's right ear.

“It would seem so,” Harry ground out. He had to admit, now that his hands were more appropriately spread across the mat, the pressure from Malfoy's legs was serving to keep him upright quite nicely.

Hermione made a small noise of alarm. “Er,” she said, interrupting Harry's thoughts. “Left foot yellow.”

“Ha!” Harry exclaimed triumphantly, moving his foot straight up. “Easy!”

Malfoy paused, and it took Harry a second longer than it should have to realise why.

“Oh, fuck no!” he protested. “You're not putting your leg there.”

“You concede defeat then?” Malfoy inquired politely.

Harry turned and glared at him, their faces barely an inch apart. Malfoy glared right back.

Harry swore and crouched down as low as he could, which wasn't particularly far given the restrictive trousers he was wearing. “Never,” he spat.

“Then I'll just take my new position, then,” Malfoy said with a smirk.

Harry closed his eyes as he felt Malfoy crook his elbow so he could loop his arm over Harry's head instead of under his chin as it had been. He felt Malfoy pause again, presumably getting his balance, before he suddenly swung his leg completely over Harry, straddling him.

Ron and Hermione were suspiciously quiet. Harry held his breath, waiting for the next move.

“Left foot green, left foot green,” he muttered under his breath.

“What was that?” Malfoy breathed into his ear, even closer than before, his chin brushing Harry's neck.

“Nothing,” Harry muttered furiously. “And you're cheating. You're resting on me.”

“That's perfectly within the rules,” Malfoy said smugly.

“Right hand blue!”

Harry and Malfoy slammed their hands down, but neither fell.

“Right hand red!”

Hermione seemed to be reading them faster than before, a fact for which Harry found himself immensely grateful, but despite the flurry of hands and legs, neither of them lost their balance.

It was when they had moved so that they were slightly facing each other, legs tangled but no longer straddling, that Harry realised his uncomfortable predicament. He shifted his feet, trying to readjust his trousers without lifting himself off the mat and getting himself disqualified. He was braced awkwardly backwards on his hands, while Malfoy was comfortably crouched on all fours.

Malfoy noticed him squirming and raised an eyebrow. “Getting tired?” he panted.

Harry shook his head mutely, praying that Malfoy didn't look down.

“Right leg blue!”

Harry froze. The only way he could make that move was to bring his right foot almost behind him, twisting at an angle so that his crotch was facing upwards for everyone to see. Then he realised that Malfoy would have to lean around and over him, and so would be covering him from the anyone's sight, including Malfoy himself. He breathed a sigh of relief and moved into place.

As Malfoy arched one brow in an unmistakable challenge and followed, Harry realised his catastrophic error.

“Muggles think up the most intimate games,” Malfoy said conversationally as he stared at a spot to the right of Harry's ear, angled across Harry's body in such a way that, while his torso was modestly diagonal, his legs were on either side of Harry's own.

Harry could feel Malfoy's legs shaking from the effort of holding himself up for so long, his body dropping just enough that their thighs met. Harry jerked backward as he felt Malfoy's hips brush against his own.

Malfoy's eyes shot to Harry's in alarm and he lifted himself up almost comically high.

“Left hand green,” Hermione said in the tone of one reading a eulogy.

Harry quickly slammed his hand down on the green next to Malfoy's right hand; the only green left within reach on that side of Harry's head. Malfoy stared him, and Harry could practically hear him praying that Harry would fall. Harry didn't fall.

Harry held his breath, waiting for Malfoy to admit defeat. They stared at each other, neither one moving for several long seconds. Expression unreadable, Malfoy closed his eyes for a moment, before opening them and fixing his gaze on Harry again. In a quick, smooth motion, he lifted his left hand from its comfortable position on yellow, and brought it down on the other side of Harry, the force of his sharp exhalation hitting Harry's lips as Malfoy held himself shakily above him.

“Oh my god,” Harry heard Hermione whisper, and then he could hear the sound of the colour wheel being frantically spun.

“Left hand green,” she muttered. “Already there. Left hand green. Left hand green. Dammit!”

Malfoy made an exasperated sound, lowering himself just slightly, his left leg shaking uncontrollably now. Harry shut his eyes as he felt Malfoy brush against him again, more firmly than before.

He heard the faint but unmistakable sound of Malfoy drawing in a surprised breath. He opened his eyes again and glared furiously at Malfoy, hoping Malfoy would assume he was imagining the hardness that he could no doubt feel pressed against his thigh.

To his horror, Malfoy eyed him curiously, an expression of disbelief on his face, before he thrust slowly, deliberately downward; an imperceptible movement for everyone but Harry.

Harry gasped, seeing the look of curiosity in Malfoy's eyes change to one of certainty and... interest?

“Oh, blast it all!” Harry heard Hermione yell in exasperation, still spinning the uncooperative dial.

Harry found himself completely unable to look away from Malfoy, who seemed frozen in thought and new awareness.

“Left hand blue!” Hermione yelled triumphantly.

Slowly, in unmistakable amusement, Malfoy smirked. “That will bring my head considerably lower.”

Harry felt his heart thump wildly as he realised exactly where the move would bring the two of them.

“Backing out, are you?” His challenge was weak, and they both knew it.

Malfoy held his gaze, so close that Harry could taste his minty breath. Before Harry knew what was happening, Malfoy dropped his head the last few millimeters and pressed their mouths together.

Harry's breath hitched and he fell to the ground.

“Victorious!” Malfoy announced triumphantly, standing up and stretching out his long legs.

Harry stared up at him, quite unable to move. Ron and Hermione watched in mute sympathy, although from their position they wouldn't know the half of it. The sounds of laughter and friendly competition filled the room – no one else seemed to have noticed.

“Rematch?” Malfoy asked innocently.

Harry snatched up his robe from the floor and threw it back on, covering himself with relief. “How about something you can't cheat at,” he said breathlessly.

Hermione cleared her throat. “I'm sure no one cheated,” she scolded, waving her wand so that the board packed itself up. “Let's see what else there is.”

As Malfoy walked past him, he lowered his voice so that only Harry could hear. “Shame you couldn't hold out a little longer, Potter. I think you would have quite enjoyed that next move.”

Harry grunted in response, trying to look withering, but fairly certain that he only succeeded in looking painfully turned on.

“Maybe later,” Malfoy said with a final smirk, striding forward to catch up with Hermione. “When everyone else has gone.”

Harry stared after him, swallowing the whimper that threatened to escape, and followed.

Maybe Games Night wasn't such a bad idea.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Harry stared down at the glass of Firewhiskey in his hand and tried, in vain, to recall how it had ended up there.   
  
“Who knew the 'Puffs were such a rowdy bunch?” Ron stumbled into him, catching a hold of his shoulder and laughing.   
  
Harry steadied himself on the wall and turned to catch Ron's eye, grinning stupidly. “Too right,” he mumbled, eyes flitting across the room as he attempted to locate Hermione.   
  
He squinted his eyes at a pair of comfortable looking pouffes sitting near the fireplace and decided that there was a distinctly Hermione-shaped figure resting on one of them. He pushed off from the wall, sending Ron flying unceremoniously onto the floor.   
  
“Oops, sorry, mate.” He laughed and reached down to help Ron to his feet.   
  
“Happens to the best of us,” Ron slurred, his eyelids half closed as they made their way over to the fire.   
  
Hermione stared up at them in horror. For some reason, Harry found this hilarious.   
  
“You should see your face!” Ron burst out, sending spittle flying and grabbing onto Harry for support as they both fell over themselves with laughter, tears leaking out of their eyes.  
  
“I'll get a Pepper-Up potion,” Hermione said, her eyes darting between the two of them as she stood up and hurriedly walked away.   
  
“You Gryffindors are such lightweights,” drawled a familiar voice near Harry's ear.   
  
Harry spun around in alarm, only to realise that he had been almost leaning on Malfoy the whole time without noticing. He took several stumbling steps backward.   
  
Malfoy raised one eyebrow in amusement, looking down at Harry from his position propped against the mantelpiece. He reached forward and casually took hold of Harry's elbow, steadying him.   
  
“Careful, Potter,” his smirk grew as Harry froze beneath his touch. “Anyone would think you were nervous.”   
  
Hermione returned, breathless, with two glasses of steaming Pepper Up potion.   
  
“That should take the edge off it.” She handed both Ron and Harry a glass each and watched them sternly until they drank it.   
  
Harry spluttered and shook his head, the remnants of the steaming liquid making his tongue tingle. He felt instantly sober, although he knew he was still a little tipsy. He looked up cautiously to see Malfoy watching him, his eyes heated in a way that had nothing to do with the competitive atmosphere.   
  
Harry quickly looked away. The first games night, he had been forced to leave when Ron and Hermione had all but dragged him out of the common room after the final games were being packed up. Not that they had any reason to assume he would want to stay, and not that he did want to stay...  
  
He looked up at Malfoy again, their eyes catching as they shared a look that made Harry shiver. So, maybe he had wanted to stay the other night. He was certain Malfoy had wanted him to, even though the concept was still vaguely incomprehensible to him.   
  
What exactly was happening between Malfoy and him? Before that night, their relationship had been just as it was before: insults and competition. Admittedly, it hadn't carried the same malice – Harry was too tired for that, and the weary expression he often saw on the blond's face suggested that Malfoy felt the same – but they certainly hadn't been friends.   
  
But in the last few days, he had found himself watching Malfoy more and more, and he was forced to acknowledge that there was something very different about the Malfoy that had returned for eighth year. But when it came to figuring out what, specifically, had changed, all that Harry could pinpoint was that there was now a lack of hired goons surrounding him. This new Malfoy seemed content to simply be alone, which made a certain amount of sense; no doubt he was more than sick of sycophants after experiencing the worst of it for himself.   
  
Whatever it was that was different, Harry couldn't deny that, after the tension of their twister game, there was something about this new Malfoy that was incredibly attractive. The fact that he had only been able to see Malfoy in classroom situations ever since, meant that, at least on his end, the tension had only grown. Although, he had to admit, he was incredible naive when it came to things like this, and the thought of something happening between the two of them filled him with nerves. He didn't entirely know how he was meant to act or what he was meant to do.   
  
“Well, are you in, Potter?”   
  
Harry looked up in alarm, realising that some decision had been made and he had no idea what it was. A knowing smile slid slowly along Malfoy's lips.   
  
Not wanting Malfoy to realise how distracted he had been – and to possibly jump to the correct conclusions – he nodded, and said, “Sure.”

  
  
~o~O~o~

  
  
Harry shifted awkwardly, his hands moving of their own accord to clasp his robes protectively in front of him.   
  
“All the way off?” he asked.  
  
Parvati smirked. “Those were the rules,” she reminded him.   
  
She leaned forward to gather up the cards, piling them together and expertly shuffling them. Harry looked around the circle of students, but saw only amused anticipation in their eyes. Even Ron appeared unsympathetic.   
  
“Go on, mate,” he said with a grin. “Bad luck that everyone else folded, but rules are rules.”  
  
Harry groaned and dropped his robes back off his shoulders in one smooth movement, to the accompaniment of many hoots and cheers from the watching students. Mercifully, Parvati dealt the next hand quickly, and everyone's attention was soon diverted.   
  
Harry wasn't displaying anything he was particularly worried about at the moment – he was, of course, wearing a shirt and trousers underneath his robes – but he had a feeling that it wouldn't be long before his modesty was properly threatened.   
  
When he had finally realised – too late – that he had agreed to a game of strip poker, he had thought that losing would be a lot... slower. He would obviously have to fold more.  
  
“Hermione!” Parvati cried in delight. “Off with it!”  
  
Hermione flushed, but took her robe off and folded it neatly beside her.   
  
Several rounds later, and Harry began to slowly relax. The losing appeared to be spread fairly evenly, with most players now down to the clothing beneath the robes, and some – Harry included – shirtless. Malfoy had managed to mostly either win or fold, and so he had only had to remove his robes and tie so far. People would surely get bored soon, and the game would end.   
  
“I fold,” Neville said, dropping his cards face down onto the floor in front of him.   
  
“Boo,” Hannah Abbot said mildly. “Spoilsport.”  
  
Neville grinned sheepishly as Parvati joined in teasing him, but then Hermione and Ron dropped their cards down too.   
  
“It's only going to make the game go longer if you all keep folding,” Malfoy said with a smirk.   
  
Harry frowned. Malfoy glanced at him, noticing the expression on his face.   
  
“We're playing this to the end, aren't we? One winner?” It wasn't really a question, not when it was accompanied by such an arrogant grin.   
  
Harry found his competitive side rising, despite the relative embarrassment he couldn't help but feel with his naked torso on display.   
  
“Of course,” he said, meeting Malfoy's gaze as Parvati and Hannah, and even Ron, murmured their agreement.   
  
Hermione and Neville were more hesitant, but their flushed grins showed they were clearly enjoying it. Which meant that Malfoy was right: if everyone just kept folding, no one was going to win.   
  
“I'm in,” Harry challenged.   
  
Parvati waited several seconds until it was clear that it was between Hannah, Malfoy, Harry, and herself, before she crowed with delight. “Flush.” She showed off her cards proudly.   
  
Everyone groaned, and Malfoy, Harry, and Hannah set about to remove their next pieces of clothing.   
  
The newly competitive atmosphere seemed to have re-energized everyone, and the stuffiness from the roaring fire was making the prospect of losing clothing sound almost attractive. Almost no one was folding now, and all the little, extra pieces of clothing, like shoes and socks, were gone.   
  
A couple of fifth year Slytherins stumbled over to watch, but Malfoy glared at them so sternly when he saw the bottle of Firewhiskey in their hands that they sheepishly walked away, leaving the bottle behind them.   
  
Malfoy grinned and grabbed the bottle, accio-ing several shot glasses and pouring everyone a drink. As he passed Harry a glass, his fingers brushed gently across Harry's hand, making Harry jolt in surprise and spill some of the drink onto this trousers.   
  
“Good thing they'll be coming off soon, right, Potter?” Malfoy's voice was low enough that only Harry could hear.   
  
He downed the shot and glared back at Malfoy in challenge. “We'll see,” he muttered.   
  
Malfoy's mouth twitched, but he said nothing. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Hannah, Parvati and Hermione whispering, but he thought nothing of it.   
  
“All in?” Malfoy asked, more as a formality than anything else; no one was folding anymore.   
  
Harry noticed his cheeks were flushed pleasantly from the drink, and his pupils were blown wide in the gentle lighting, making his eyes seem large and dark.   
  
“I fold,” Parvati said, setting her cards down with a small smile.   
  
Hermione and Hannah quickly followed. Harry thought he saw Ron and Neville look at the girls in surprise, but he was too distracted watching Malfoy to take it all in, and when he looked up they simply shrugged and folded as well.   
  
Harry turned back to the Slytherin and smirked. “You out, too, Malfoy?”   
  
Malfoy shook his head and made a big show of re-arranging his cards, waiting for Harry to back out.   
  
Harry smiled. “What have you got?”   
  
Malfoy displayed his cards triumphantly. “Four of a kind.”   
  
Harry pulled a sorrowful expression, and then turned his own cards around with a smirk. “Four aces.”   
  
Malfoy grimaced.   
  
“Off with the pants, Malfoy.” Harry laughed, then his eyes widened in alarm as he realised what he had just said.   
  
“So eager, Potter,” Malfoy's voice was barely a murmur, but the sharp intake of breath from Hermione's direction was enough to tell Harry that it was still audible.   
  
Harry stomach flipped; he had the sudden sensation of butterflies fluttering around inside.  
  
Malfoy stood up and calmly unbuttoned his trousers, taking his time unzipping the fly and then – in a self-assured motion that left Harry feeling suddenly light-headed – letting them fall to the ground. He stepped out lightly and sat back down in nothing but his black, silk boxers. Harry could hear everyone cheering, but he couldn't pay any attention over the thudding sound of his heart.   
  
He swallowed and swept up the cards, dealing them out without looking at Malfoy. He could feel a flush creeping up his neck, and he just hoped no one else had spotted it.   
  
“I fold,” Hannah said, barely looking at her cards.   
  
Neville, Ron, Hermione, and Parvati all folded immediately after. Harry looked up in astonishment and Malfoy narrowed his eyes. Malfoy opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it again, looking thoughtful. He turned back to Harry.   
  
“And you?” He raised his eyebrows in a polite expression that almost made Harry snort at how ridiculous it looked on him.   
  
“'Course not,” Harry ground out through gritted teeth. He dropped his cards onto the ground, face up. “Straight.”   
  
Malfoy tsked softly and shook his head. “Doubt it,” he muttered, his eyes shooting Harry an intense look before he moved on in an ordinary voice so quickly Harry wondered if he had imagined it. “Poor Potty. Full house.” Malfoy turned his cards around, long, elegant fingers almost caressing the arrangement of queens and jacks in assorted suits.  
  
Harry dropped his head back and groaned. As quickly as he could, he shucked his trousers and threw them behind him, thankful that he was wearing plain, navy boxers without any holes.   
  
“You're not wearing your snitches, tonight?” Ron snickered, holding up his hands in protection as Harry grabbed his shirt and threw it roughly at Ron's head.   
  
“Traitor,” he hissed, as everyone burst into laughter.   
  
Even Malfoy raised one eyebrow. “That would be a sight.”  
  
The butterflies in Harry's stomach suddenly picked up speed, and he shifted uncomfortably.   
  
Malfoy dealt out the next round quickly, and Harry wasn't surprised when the rest of the group folded without even looking at their cards. He glared at his friends, who seemed unperturbed in the face of his ire.   
  
“Not sure why I'm even bothering to play,” he muttered fiercely, “since you're all obviously not.”  
  
“Us?” Parvati asked innocently. “I've no idea what you mean.” She grinned suddenly. “Although you can't blame us for enjoying a good show.”  
  
“Are you out, then?” Malfoy inquired.   
  
Harry shook his head mutely and picked up his cards. They were both down to their briefs now; if he could only win this round, then he didn't care about the rest of the game. He would have at least beaten Malfoy.   
  
And seen him naked, a small and entirely unhelpful part of his brain supplied.   
  
He looked down at his hand and had to bite down sharply on his tongue to stop from smiling. He looked up at Malfoy and felt his smile falter at the steady gaze that was waiting for him.  
  
“Ready when you are.” Malfoy's eyes gleamed in the lamp light.   
  
To hell with a dramatic reveal. “Straight flush,” Harry said triumphantly, displaying his cards.   
  
Parvati shrieked and began to clap. “Take 'em off, Malfoy!”   
  
But Malfoy only grinned and slowly turned his hand around. “Royal flush.”   
  
Harry's jaw dropped. “No,” he moaned softly, although he had long since accepted that this game would result in his nakedness at some point. He had just thought it would be after at least one other person's humiliation.   
  
“Sorry, mate.” Ron smacked him on the back, looking decidedly not sorry.   
  
Summoning his Gryffindor bravery, Harry poured himself a shot, downed it, and pulled off his boxers. Parvati and Hannah hooted in appreciation, Hermione yelped and covered her eyes, Ron and Neville howled with laughter – although Neville had the decency to look apologetic – and Malfoy...   
  
Malfoy stared at him, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. The slight flush on his neck rose higher, tinting his cheeks pink as his eyes fell from Harry's face down to his thighs.   
  
Harry cleared his throat, feeling oddly pleased, although he knew his face was bright red from embarrassment.   
  
“Can I put them back on, now?” he asked with a laugh, ducking his head and reaching for his clothing.   
  
“Well, someone is quite the show off, isn't he?”   
  
Harry looked up in shock at the quiet comment – meant only for his ears – and the heat in Malfoy's eyes stopped him in his tracks. He froze, lost for words.   
  
“Well, I'm bored of this game,” Parvati said, wiping her eyes and grinning. “Let's play something else.”  
  
One by one, the other players rose and headed over to the game table to choose something else. Ron was leaning heavily on Hermione for support, and even Neville and Hannah looked quite wobbly.   
  
Harry quickly threw his pants and shirt back on.   
  
“I don't think they'll notice if we disappear,” Malfoy said in a low voice.   
  
Harry stared at him, feeling his cock twitch suddenly in approval. He was beyond grateful it had behaved through the whole of the poker game, only swelling enough to make him feel impressive in that last defeat – not so much that it was obvious where his thoughts were.   
  
“Let's go,” Harry heard himself say, and the butterflies in his stomach danced at the answering look of surprise and hunger on Malfoy's face.   
  
He didn't look behind him as Malfoy stood up and led the way out of the Hufflepuff common room and back to his Slytherin dorm.   
  
There was no one there as they walked into the common room, and no one sleeping in the eighth year dorm. Harry felt his nerves kick in when he caught sight of the bed and realised that, for the first time, there was nothing standing between them and whatever it was they both wanted to do.   
  
He didn't know exactly what he wanted to do. What was he meant to do?  
  
The door clicked softly shut behind him, and Harry felt gentle hands on his shoulders, spinning him around and shoving him firmly back so that his knees hit the bed and he fell backward onto the sheets. Breathless, it occurred to Harry that perhaps his naivety wasn't going to be as big an issue as he had thought it would be.   
  
Malfoy leaned slowly forward, bracing himself with his hands on either side of Harry's head and leaning down to run his lips gently along Harry's jaw. Harry's breath hitched, and he found himself gripping the sheets, his heart racing.   
  
“I've been waiting to do this,” Malfoy said in a husky voice, nipping gently down Harry's jaw and onto his collar bone, “for days.” His hand moved from its place beside Harry, sliding beneath his shirt and lifting it up to expose his chest. “Days, Potter. Do you know how aggravating that is?”   
  
Harry gasped as Malfoy's mouth descended onto his nipple, biting gently before settling into a steady laving that made Harry think of all sorts of other things that tongue could be doing.   
  
He felt Malfoy smirk against his skin. “I suspect you do,” he said simply, and then began to trail slowly lower, his tongue and lips marking their way downward.   
  
One hand was still firmly braced by Harry's head, while the other began now to slide along the top of his waist band, questioning. Harry moaned in response and turned his head toward Malfoy's slender wrist. He wanted to do something – needed to do something more than just lie here – and so he moved past the final centimeters separating them and bit down gently on Malfoy's arm.   
  
He heard Malfoy groan, the weight on that arm shifting in sudden weakness, and Harry's hands involuntarily moved up to Malfoy's hair, gripping tightly while his mouth continued to bite and suck on every bit of skin he could reach.   
  
“Fuck,” he heard Malfoy breathe, the word choking on a gasp, before Malfoy suddenly ripped open Harry's pants and bared him for the second time that evening.   
  
Seconds passed as Malfoy slowly moved down Harry's body, bringing his arm out of reach of Harry's mouth to brace himself above Harry's hips. His breath huffed lightly against Harry's sensitive cock – no longer merely swelled in interest, but completely hard and dripping for the blond hovered above him. Without thinking, Harry moaned and thrust gently, pleadingly, upward, brushing against Malfoy's lips while his hands threaded through that soft hair.   
  
He saw Malfoy shiver, and then Malfoy lowered his mouth and ran his tongue in one long, smooth stripe up the underside of Harry's cock. Harry's answering shout was all the approval he seemed to need, as he took Harry in his mouth and began to move on him.   
  
Harry gripped Malfoy tighter and couldn't hold back from thrusting upward, fucking Malfoy's mouth as gently as he could. He felt Malfoy moan around him and bring his hands lower, running his elegant fingers gently below Harry's cock and around Harry's tight entrance.   
  
“Please,” Harry whispered without thinking, and then those fingers were pressing lightly against the hole, sticky with lube that Malfoy must have conjured earlier when Harry was incapable of noticing.   
  
Malfoy's fingers moved back and forth while his mouth hollowed and sucked, rendering Harry incapable of any thought except for the sensations below his waist. The thought that it was Malfoy doing this – Malfoy, who he hated – only passed fleetingly through his mind, and instead he was struck by tiny moments that seemed strangely poignant: the feel of Malfoy's soft hair in his hands; the heat in Malfoy's eyes; the way his smirk seemed suddenly wicked instead of arrogant.   
  
In one smooth motion, Malfoy's fingers slipped inside, and Harry cried out, thrusting up into Malfoy's mouth as Malfoy's fingers stroked a place inside Harry that he had never quite managed to hit properly. He pushed back down on Malfoy's fingers as they found an unerring rhythm inside him, torn between thrusting up into the delicious heat of Malfoy's mouth and pushing down as Malfoy gently fucked him.  
  
Just as suddenly as it had begun, Malfoy pulled away. Harry whimpered in protest, instantly regretting the vulnerable sound, but Malfoy only smiled and pulled his own shirt off, over his head, and stood up to undo his trousers. Harry sat up and moved further back down the bed, ripping off his clothes as he went, making room for the Slytherin as he knelt over him. The sight of Malfoy naked was everything he had imagined, and he drank in the sight of the man, all sharp angles and smooth skin in the candle light.  
  
Malfoy suddenly paused, looking down at Harry and looking oddly hesitant, given everything they were doing. Slowly, he lowered himself until his lips were centimeters from Harry's own. Harry felt his heart beat rapidly as they stayed like that for several long seconds before Malfoy dropped his head down and kissed him.   
  
Harry reached up, bracing himself on one elbow and grasping Malfoy's neck with his other hand, holding him there as he opened his mouth and kissed Malfoy back. He could feel Malfoy's gasp of surprise – followed quickly by a moan – before the blond began kissing him in earnest, his tongue fighting desperately against Harry's own. Harry sucked on Malfoy's bottom lip, biting it softly and relishing the way Malfoy shivered and froze as though savouring the moment. He did it again, softer, and thought he saw Malfoy's eyebrows draw up slightly, helplessly, before he practically snarled and pushed Harry back down onto the pillows, taking control of the kiss again and thrusting slowly against Harry's thigh.   
  
Harry felt Malfoy's fingers return to their gentle probing, slipping inside him with ease now and languorously stroking the place that made him arch up and cry out. Through half-lidded eyes, he saw Malfoy's lips quirk into a smile as the fingers were replaced by something much larger, and then Malfoy was pushing slowly inside him.   
  
Harry gasped, holding himself still as he got used to the sensation. Malfoy lowered himself down onto his elbows, his lips hovering beside Harry's ear. He held himself there, waiting.  
  
“Can I move?” He whispered, and Harry could hear him shaking from the effort of his restraint.   
  
Harry nodded, and the blond whimpered and thrust slowly forward, angling himself so perfectly at that wonderful spot again that Harry quickly forgot any pain in the sensation and began writhing back and forth beneath Malfoy. He cried out as the dual sensations of Malfoy's cock moving inside him and his own rubbing against Malfoy's stomach began to overwhelm everything else.   
  
When Malfoy's thrusts began to speed up, Harry turned his head to capture Malfoy's lips again, drawing a sharp breath of surprise from the man before he complied. Harry deepened the kiss until it was slow and languid, surprisingly unhurried in contrast to the rapid movements of their sweat-soaked bodies against one another as Malfoys hips began to stutter erratically.   
  
Harry reached up and gripped Malfoy fiercely, holding him there as his hips stilled and he moaned his climax into Harry's mouth. With a shout, Harry followed, thrusting upward as he spilled himself between them.   
  
With a sigh, Malfoy drew back and collapsed next to him.  
  
Harry felt his heart begin to return to normal, the beats still fast, but now steady. He gazed down at Malfoy beside him, struck by the way his face seemed so relaxed, his eyes closed and barely visible in the low light of the candles and the moon. He was so different this year, though Harry still wasn't sure how, and the thought of what they had just done, and the impossibility of it, left Harry reeling in shock and disbelief.   
  
Compelled by a strange surge of tenderness, he leaned down and kissed Malfoy again, his lips lingering until he felt Malfoy's own curl up into a surprised smile. Malfoy's eyes opened, and he stared up at Harry, his expression unreadable.   
  
“I guess I'll head back,” Harry murmured, unwilling to disturb this strange peace between them. He sat up.   
  
“No,” Malfoy said, reaching up and pulling him back down. “Stay.”  
  
Harry looked down at the blond, but his eyes were already closed again. He reached for his wand, extinguishing the lights and drawing the curtains. Then, he settled himself more comfortably and pulled the blankets up and over them.   
  
“Sure,” he whispered, smiling into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably leave this fic at just the two parts, unless there's an outcry... hope you liked it :)


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